Dreams To Dream
by Libby Sarah
Summary: Brennan has a disturbing dream that takes its toll on her waking life, putting a strain on her relationship with Booth.
1. Chapter 1

A.N.: Now, those of you who have read my _House_ fic, "Reputation", are probably saying to yourselves, "She hasn't finished posting the rest of that story; when did she have time to crank out this one?" Well, truth be told, I started "Reputation" before leaving a job in '05, wrote this whole thing at the end of '06/beginning of '07 at another job, and started to post "Reputation" without finishing it (sorry!!). This story _is_ complete, and I hope you guys enjoy it while I try to get my lazy arse to finish the first one…

Dreams To Dream

**Chapter One**

_Her mind was chaotic. She was somewhere…in a place that wasn't her home, the lab, a crime scene. Somewhere she had never been._

_She was on her knees, hands raised in the air. Hoping to keep the person pointing the gun at her from firing._

"_Why are you doing this?" she asked desperately. No answer was given._

_The person shot._

Temperance Brennan bolted upright from her bed. Sweat beaded all over; her breathing was ragged; her whole body shook.

Brennan had seen mass carnage, been in hostile situations, and had nearly been killed on several occasions. But the dream she'd just expelled herself from was one of the most frightening things she'd ever experienced.

Because Agent Seeley Booth was the person who'd shot her.

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The forensic anthropologist headed straight for her office the minute she entered the Jeffersonian. Her mantra all morning had been: _It is empirically impossible that Booth would shoot me. I'm his partner. I've done nothing illegal. It was a stupid dream. He would never shoot me…_

The Logical part of her kept repeating these words, and telling her that dreams were simply part of the subconscious. But another faction replayed how real the dream _felt_. The _fear_ of seeing Booth standing there, eyes burning, aiming his gun straight at her. The _pain_ of the bullet piercing her flesh. And worst of all, the _hurt_ of being shot by someone she considered a very good friend, sometimes more. All of this was enough to quash Logic.

"Knock knock," came a voice at Brennan's door.

"Come in."

Angela smiled as she entered. "Morning. Got your report?"

"Report?" Brennan asked, confused.

"On the case we just finished? Sasha Anderson, the girl in the sewer?" Angela refreshed her friend's memory, with a puzzled look herself.

The figurative light bulb came on in the doctor's mind. "My report…oh, no. It's sitting on my counter at home." She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. "I didn't…sleep too well last night, and I must have forgotten all about it."

"That's not like you." Said Angela. "I mean, you've had bad nights of sleep before, but—"

"I know," interrupted Brennan, eyes open again. "I will get the report on my break. And I won't forget next time."

Folding her arms across her chest, Angela said, "Tell me what's really wrong."

Brennan sighed. "Is Booth here yet?"

Angela shook her head. "No, not yet. Why?"

"Close the door."

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"Wow." Stated Angela.

Brennan had described her dream to her friend, who had listened intently. "I don't know what I'd be like if I had a dream with Hodgins doing that to me. Of course, he'd probably ask about the specifics of the gun." Brennan gave a half-smile.

"Well, anyway, that's the reason I'm not myself today, and why I've sort of been 'hiding out' in here. I don't think I can face Booth right away."

Angela frowned. "But it was only a dream. None of it really happened."

"That's what I keep telling myself." Brennan agreed. "But it's still very…_raw_, right now."

"Sweetie, I bet if you just told Booth about it, you'd feel better." Angela insisted, tilting her head to the side and giving her friend a hopeful smile.

"Maybe. Later." Standing from her place in her desk chair, Brennan said, "Duty calls."

The two exited her office; Zack passed by them.

"Agent Booth is here, Dr. Brennan," he reported as he made his way down the stairs. Brennan looked slightly alarmed.

"Ange, can you keep him distracted for a little while? I'm…I'll be…away, for a few minutes." She was already taking a step back.

"What is this, junior high?" questioned Angela in disbelief.

Brennan gained more distance. "Just stall him. Please!"

She disappeared around the corner and Angela made a face. Quickly turning, she slammed right into Booth.

"Angela." He did not look happy. "Where is Bones?"

The artist attempted to say something remotely plausible. "Oh, she's in the bathroom. You know how we girls are."

Booth raised a brow, but at least he seemed to buy it.

"Tell her to meet me in the lab when she's done. A body turned up under the bleachers of West Payton High's football field. We need to get out there ASAP."

"Will do," promised Angela, a little more cheerfully than she'd intended. Booth gave her a Look, then turned and went back the way he'd come.

"ASAP!" He repeated.

Dousing the smile plastered on her face, Angela went in search of her friend. Brennan had actually gone farther than Angela expected; she was on a bench in the gardens outside, absently toying with the stem of a flower. When she glanced up and saw Angela, the scientist asked, "What did he say?"

"Well, Kagome, let's just say Inuyasha totally wants you to come back through the Well."

"Okay, I _really_ don't know what that means."

Angela joined the other woman on the bench, and they were silent for a moment before Brennan queried, "Was he mad?"

"Booth is always mad." Angela smirked. "It's his _thing_."

"No, I mean, was he mad…at me?" Brennan actually looked a little scared.

"Honey, I don't think there's much you could do to make Seeley Booth mad at you." Putting her arm around Brennan, Angela continued. "He did say there was a body at West Payton High School, and he was very eager to have you come with him and check it out. Made it pretty clear it was a matter of urgency, so you might want to get going. He's in the lab, waiting for you."

Brennan stood, thinking aloud. "If I leave right now, I might be done before Booth starts to get suspicious…"

"What?" Angela stood as well. "This is silly. You can't avoid him forever."

"Then just give me a 15-minute head start. I'm certain I can make my assessments in the time it takes for Booth to arrive." At her friend's silent yet skeptical response, Brennan assured her, "It won't be forever, Angela. Just until I can shake this thing from my psyche."

Angela exhaled, then nodded. "Fine. 15 minutes."

As Brennan left for the crime scene, the artist groaned inwardly. _This is going to be fun…_


	2. Chapter 2

I guess I should add that I know nothing about forensic anthropology, so please bear with me! Also, I own nothing, so don't sue!

**Chapter Two**

Angela took her time getting back to the lab by making her way through various hallways and other departments. When she finally arrived, she could see Booth pacing furiously, wearing a groove in the floor.

Hodgins and Zack sidled over to Angela discretely. "He's been doing this for ten minutes." Hodgins told her. "It's driving me nuts."

"Where is Dr. Brennan?" questioned Zack.

Knowing that explaining the current situation would be a betrayal of her friend's confidence, but also that she would need the guys' help, Angela said, "Brennan's held up for now. We need to keep Booth hanging temporarily."

"How 'temporarily'?" Zack looked uneasy, as though at this point, the FBI agent would snap him in half if provoked.

"As long as possible without him blowing a gasket."

Looking over to see the Squints congregating in the corner, Booth barked, "Well? Where the hell is she?"

"What's the matter?" Hodgins sneered. "Aren't you keeping tabs on her? That's what The Man is all about. Wire taps. Surveillance. Bet you guys are really proud of GPS."

Angela elbowed him in the side. He was doing his part a little _too_ well.

The agent glared at the three of them. "Is Bones even in the building?"

Angela winced slightly. _Not enough time_, she thought. Booth spied her reaction and walked over to her. "Angela…"

"She may have…left without you." The woman admitted sheepishly.

"She what?" Booth was both livid and perplexed. He took his leave from the Squints without a second's hesitation.

"That was so awesome!" exclaimed Hodgins, beaming.

"You mean the fact that Agent Booth was mad enough to have ripped out our spleens?" Zack asked incredulously. "Aside from the fact that such an act would be physically impossible—"

"No. The way I laid it out to a G-man." Hodgins gave a proud nod.

Lost in her thoughts, Angela sighed. _I hope you know what you're doing, Brennan._

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Booth parked his SUV next to a cluster of police cars near the football field. He had calmed somewhat during the drive, but still didn't know how to react to Bones not going with him. They _always_ rode together. Booth didn't have long to ponder; he scanned the crime scene for his partner. It shouldn't have been so hard to find her. Bones stuck out like a sore thumb, what with her Squint Lingo and blue Jeffersonian jumpsuit. So why couldn't he single her out?

"Excuse me," Booth said to an officer who was approaching. "Is Dr. Temperance Brennan still on the scene?"

"No, sir. I'm afraid you just missed her."

The agent was taken aback, but he thanked the officer and continued toward the bleachers.

Once there, he asked questions of various cops, gathering information pertaining to the case—and his partner. Apparently, Bones had shown up a few minutes earlier and come to the conclusion that the body was that of a female, age 15 to 18, who had somewhat recently sustained an injury to her ankle. And as soon as the doctor had finished 'doing her thing', she requested that the body be sent to the Jeffersonian. Then she left.

As Booth was about to head back to his vehicle, someone called out, "Agent!"

Booth turned to see a younger cop jotting over to him with something in his hand. "We found this by some trash near the body."

The cop held out an evidence bag to Booth, who took it and glanced at its contents.

A photograph of a teenage girl; long, brown hair, blue eyes, slim. She wore a silly grin on her face, as if posing for whoever took the picture. Booth shook his head solemnly.

"This might be the victim," he stated. "I'll take this to the lab where Dr. Brennan is examining the body. See if we can't find out who she is."

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Back at the Jeffersonian, Booth swiped his card and climbed the stairs in the lab. The Squints, including Bones, were examining the girl's remains.

Just as she was pointing out a part of the body to Zach, saying, "Now take a look at the—", Booth tapped her on the shoulder.

Brennan let out a yelp and whirled around, poised to break someone's arm.

"Jeez, Bones!" said Booth, holding up a hand to ward her off. "Decaf!"

"Booth," the doctor began anxiously, "what are you doing here?"

"What am I…?" Booth raised his brows. "Bones, you went to and left the crime scene without me!"

Hodgins, smiling, said low to the others, "Uh-oh, the honeymoon's over."

"Jack?" Angela said, equally low. "Not helping!"

"I really don't wish to discuss this in front of my team." Brennan swallowed, seeing the vein slowly protruding in her partner's forehead.

"Oh, we don't have to 'discus' anything. Just tell me what the hell's with you today!" Demanded Booth.

Brennan faced the others once again. "If all of you would join me when you're finished, I'll be in with the Angelator." She hurried past Booth. He resisted the urge to hold her arm or run after her.

"One of you guys _has_ to know what that was all about." Booth addressed the Squints.

"Dr. Brennan's personal life is her own." Commented Zack.

The agent settled his gaze on Angela.

"You're her best friend," he stated. "Why is she acting like this?"

The artist stared right back. Confidently, she replied, "You're right, Booth. I am her best friend. Which means my loyalty lies with Brennan. And although I like you, I won't betray her trust."

Booth's demeanor softened slightly. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Just…is she alright?"

Angela nodded. "Yeah. She's alright."

Booth ran a hand through his hair, obviously relieved. "Okay. Let me know when you guys are done." He headed down the stairs once more.

Hodgins grinned. "We're two for two on telling off an agent of the FBI. Even if it is Booth." He turned to Zack, whose eyes widened.

"Forget it. I prefer all of my bones to stay intact."

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Later, when Angela went to her office to meet Brennan, concern was etched on her features.

"This has got to stop," she told her friend. "I basically told Booth off, for no reason."

The doctor shook herself out of her reverie and looked up at Angela.

"I'm sorry for making you cover for me."

"It's just so far from who you are."

"I know."

There was a moment of silence, which Brennan seemed to be about to break before Hodgins and Zack walked in, apparently heavy in debate.

"No way, man," Hodgins was saying. "Johnny Got His Gun is top shelf. This guy gets everything blown off—we're talkin' arms, legs, face, the works—and tells about the evils of war in between memories of his life. Plus, Dalton Trumbo was _blacklisted_."

Zack shook his head. "I disagree. My book of choice would be Tuck Everlasting. It displays the consequences of wanting to live forever."

"It's a kid's book," scoffed Hodgins. "No kid's book is popular with adults."

"What about Harry Potter?" retaliated Zack. Hodgins was about to verbally strike back when Booth entered.

"Let's do this," he said, clapping his hands. Everyone gathered around the Angelator. Booth glanced across it, hoping to catch Bones' eye, but she was already looking up, ready for the image to appear.

Angela did her thing as well, and a girl's face began to form over the skull.

Booth watched, not comprehending. Angela, when she finished, saw him staring.

"What's wrong?"

The agent pulled the evidence bag from inside his jacket pocket and held up the picture.

"Whoever killed this girl is messing with us. Big time."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"We ran the image Angela produced through the usual missing persons and this is what we came up with." Brennan told the others. Another teenager, with shoulder-length blond hair and green eyes, was presented on the computer screen. "Kayla Brown, seventeen, missing for two months. The state of the body is congruent with that amount of time. She was a cheerleader; the damage to her ankle is consistent with a fall she may have taken during a practice."

"So we know she is," said Booth. He pointed to the picture of the other girl. "What about her?"

"We ran her through the database, too." Explained Angela. "Nothing."

"Why would our killer leave a photograph of an entirely different person near the body?" Zack wondered.

"It's not likely the girl in that picture could have done it." Hodgins pointed out. "I mean, I've heard of dumb criminals before, but wouldn't it be less time-consuming just to turn yourself in?"

"How did this case catch the attention of the FBI anyway?" Angela asked Booth.

"We originally thought it was someone we had dealt with a few years ago, based on some of the evidence gathered at the scene. But our guy never left photos with the bodies. Especially not ones of different people."

"We'll keep looking," Brennan assured him. Though, Booth noticed she hadn't bothered to turn around when she said it.

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_Brennan was once again in a state of confusion. Details were becoming clearer. Little things she could make out: windows, end tables, a bed. At least she could tell this nondescript place was a room._

_The tension hung heavily in the air. Her knee throbbed, but that was merely a detail. Brennan's mind was on more important things._

_Like the weapon trained directly on her. "Why?" she pleaded, a lone tear making its way down her cheek. "Why are you doing this?"_

_And Booth stood there, eyes boring into the very heart of her. The shot he fired was deafening; the bullet lodged in her heart._

For the second night in a row, the anthropologist sprang up, heaving breaths, drenched in sweat. There was no throbbing in her knee, but her chest felt like it was on fire. Against Brennan's better judgment, she dialed her best friend's number.

A very groggy-sounding Angela answered, "Hello?"

"Angela…" Brennan began, unsure as to why she even bothered waking the other woman.

"Brennan?" Angela sounded a little more alert. "Honey, what's wrong? It's 2:15 in the morning."

"I know, I'm sorry." Again, Brennan faltered. Taking a deep breath—and wincing at the pain—she continued. "I had the dream again."

"Booth shooting you?"

"Yes."

"Are you okay?"

Brennan wasn't sure what bothered her more: the dream, or her embarrassment. "Um, yeah. I'm really sorry I woke you." Her voice shook. "You're right. It's just a silly dream."

Angela's own voice conveyed her concern. "This truly is bothering you, isn't it?" She paused. "Do you want to go somewhere to talk?"

"No, Ange. I shouldn't have disturbed you in the first place."

"Oh, sweetie, you can put an end to that kind of talk right there. We can head to the Diner. Meet me there in ten minutes."

Knowing she could use the company, Brennan agreed. "Thanks, Angela."

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After the waitress filled their coffee cups and continued on, the two women really began to talk.

"Why do you think you're dreaming of getting shot?" Angela asked. "And by Booth, of all people?"

Brennan shrugged. "Some cultures believed that prophetic dreams were sent to the holy people among them, while others thought they represented tragic events to come."

"So, you seriously think this is going to happen?" Pushing her cup to the side, Angela said, "Booth would never, ever kill you, Brennan."

"I know." Brennan took a deep breath. "And as both a doctor and a scientist, I am aware that rationally, the odds of such an occurrence based on the random firings of neurons in my brain are infinitesimal."

"But…?" implored Angela.

"But, there has to be something to it. It can't be a coincidence."

"'There are no coincidences. Only the illusion of coincidence.'" Angela quoted. She half-smiled. "Sorry. I watched _V For Vendetta_ this weekend."

"Is that a documentary?"

The artist started to correct her friend, but decided against it. "What about later today at work? Are we going to play more 'Cloak and Dagger' with Booth?"

"I don't know what—"

Holding up a hand, Angela rephrased. "Am I continuing to help you avoid him?"

"We're working on a case together." Brennan droned, saying the words as if automatically. "It would be unprofessional for me not to cooperate."

"That isn't exactly what I asked," Angela pointed out.

Brennan sighed. "Well, anything pertaining to Kayla Brown will require maintaining ample communication. However, as for driving to and from work, socializing…"

"Gotcha. I'll do what I can."

"That means a lot to me, Ange."

They finished their coffee in silence.

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While Angela headed home (and back to bed), Brennan went to the Jeffersonian to find out what she could about Kayla. Based on what Zack and Hodgins had already ascertained, she pieced together what must have happened to the girl: a crowbar had been used to smash the top of the skull, then the body was dragged away from the original crime scene and placed under the bleachers. Brennan didn't yet know what to make of the picture found next to the body, but it definitely wasn't of the girl lying before her.

Hours later, the rest of the team came into the lab. Hodgins and Zack looked refreshed; Angela looked less than enthused.

When Booth arrived, his attention was immediately focused on his partner.

"Bones, you look like hell." He told her as he approached.

"Thank you, Agent Booth." Brennan replied sarcastically.

Booth, once he got past the fact that Bones had actually used sarcasm, mouthed 'Agent?'.

Brushing it off, he continued. "Well, on that note, I guess this is as good a time as any…"

Booth laid a brown paper sack on the computer table Brennan sat at. The anthropologist observed it, then Booth, somewhat unnerved. "What is it?" she ventured.

"A peace offering." Supplied her partner.

"Peace offering?" Brennan was lost.

"Obviously I did _something_ to piss you off." Booth frowned. "I'm not quite sure what." He pointed a finger at the bag. "And no, it's not a gun." He winked at her.

Although meant to be a joke, the words made Brennan shiver. Trying to regain her composure before Booth suspected anything was wrong, she said, "Thanks. You can put it in my office."

"But it's a raspberry scone from Egg Harbor." Protested Booth. "You said you love those things. Plus, Angela told me you've been here awhile and you probably haven't eaten—"

"Alright, I'll take it!" Brennan snapped unintentionally. Booth blinked, surprised. Quickly, the doctor tried to make amends. "Sorry. It's the case. I'm almost done with the body, and I've been very busy."

"Fine."

Booth's cell rang and he turned to take the call. Brennan felt horrible. Booth had done something nice for her, and yet she still had an irrational fear of him.

He turned back to her. "Another one. Fairview Park, buried by the fountain." Booth lingered for a moment. "You coming with me this time?"

"No, you go on ahead. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Yeah."

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"I've been the groundskeeper here for twenty years," explained Booth's witness, Henry Benjamin. He was in his fifties, with graying hair, and as of now, an immensely bothered expression on his face. "I come once a week to mow the grass, pick up trash, plant new flowers—that sort of thing."

Booth saw the man's unease. "It's okay, Mr. Benjamin. Take your time."

Henry nodded his thanks. "Well, you see, a couple months ago, the city paid to have the fountain put in. Only problem is, grass still ain't growing in so good, and the water from that fountain splashes on it a lot. Too much water, not enough grass…I'm surprised I didn't notice it sooner."

"Notice what, Mr. Benjamin?" queried Booth.

"The mound. A spot of earth raised up a bit. That's where I found her." Henry shook his head, saying to himself, "That poor girl…"

Booth thanked him and went to ask more questions. Bones arrived not long after, going straight to work. The agent approached her tentatively. Booth could tell there was still an 'off' factor. He couldn't get more than two feet next to Bones before she'd move away. Wouldn't look him in the eye, either. Sure, Bones got lost in what she was doing sometimes, but not like this, with him, for this long.

"It's because I made fun of the title of your book, isn't it?" asked Booth as Bones examined the body.

"What do you mean?" She looked at the victim's clothing, shredded, but for the most part, intact.

"That's why you've been avoiding me and biting my head off."

"No." The woman checked out the girl's skull, moving aside thins strands of still-attached hair.

"Then I'm at a loss, Bones. If I haven't made you mad, why are we fighting?" Booth thought about it. "I mean, are we fighting? Because it seems pretty one-sided. Actually, it feels like we're in high school and dating."

Had Brennan actually heard what her partner had said, she would have blushed. However, she stood, brushing a strand of her own hair from her eyes, and relayed to Booth her findings.

"Female. Fifteen to eighteen, like Kayla Brown. Only…"

"Only what?"

"This girl died more recently. The body isn't nearly as decomposed. Some hair and clothing remain."

Booth put his hands on his hips. "So, you don't think it's the same guy?"

Brennan pulled off her gloves. "Right now, there's not enough evidence to confirm or deny that. I'll have to investigate further at the lab. For all we know, our killer may have bodies buried all over the city."

"That's a comforting thought." Winced Booth.

Brennan gave the order to have the body sent to the Jeffersonian, then made her way back to her car. The agent called after her, "Are we still going to the Prom together?" Which Bones either hadn't heard, chose to ignore, or didn't get.

Walking over to the fountain, Booth made his observations. Henry was right: water splashed up over the side quite often. It would be impossible for grass to fully cover the area surrounding it. Perhaps the guy they were looking for was already getting sloppy.

Then, Booth could hear a sort of tapping. He listened hard and slowly moved to follow the sound.

There, propped up against the underside of the fountain, water dripping upon it, was another picture.


	4. Chapter 4

I apologize to those who pointed out that the story is listed as complete, yet not all the chapters are up. There's one more after this, and I will get it up as soon as I can. Thanks for reading!

**Chapter Four**

"Hannah Bentz, age fifteen. Missing for three weeks." Reported Brennan. The image now on the computer screen was of the girl from Booth's first photograph: brown hair, blue eyes, slim.

"Again, not the same girl in this picture." Booth held it up. "Not even close."

The girl in the newest picture was older, closer to eighteen, with short black hair and brown eyes.

"Wait," Angela started, "when we checked the missing persons archive before, Hannah Bentz's name didn't come up. Suddenly, a day later, we're able to find her. What gives?"

"Hannah was an emancipated minor." Brennan explained. "No one reported her missing until just yesterday."

"Which means the girl in this second picture may not have much time left." Booth surmised, adding grimly, "If she's still alive at all."

"Do the girls have any commonalities?" inquired Brennan. Angela quickly scanned Kayla's file, then Hannah's.

"Yeah." She replied. "They both attended West Payton High School."

"Where Kayla's body was found." Hodgins said.

"There's a good chance the girl in the second picture is a student there as well." Zack concluded.

"I'm on it." Booth walked out from the lab, destined for the school. Thankfully, Brennan mused, he didn't ask if she wanted to join him.

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Half-way through the day, waiting on results, Brennan managed to lie down on her office couch and try to, as Angela put it, 'catch some Z's'. There was so much to do, but the lack of sleep she'd had for the past two nights was slowly taking its toll. And if the anthropologist wanted to stay sharp for the case, a quick nap wouldn't hurt.

Within minutes of closing her eyes, Brennan was met with intense flashes; frightening images. _Room. Booth. Gun. Fear. Confusion. Hurt. Pain._

She jerked herself awake, gasping. Even simply closing her eyes brought on nightmares now. There wasn't much more Brennan's fragile being could take.

Angela casually strolled in. "Brennan?"

"No!" shouted the doctor before she realized who it was.

Angela stood in the doorway, stunned. "'No', what?"

Brennan put her head in her hands, attempting to pull herself together. "It's not going away, Angela."

"What isn't?"

"The dream. It's getting worse. I'm convinced it's being here; in the lab, in the city, around Booth all the time."

The artist frowned. "What do you suggest?"

"You have a name for them…'highway adventures'?"

"I believe the term you're going for is 'road trip'."

"Yes."

Shaking her head gravely, Angela reported, "Booth called and said a third body was found; probably the girl from the second picture. He needs you. There's no way you can just up and leave."

"Everything's becoming disillusioned," Brennan argued. "And my relationship with Booth has already become so fractured…"

She crossed the room to her friend. "Will you come with me? We can drive to the country and stay for a couple of days. I just need to clear my head."

"Didn't you hear me?" Angela asked. "That girl needs to be identified, and we need to stop her murderer."

"Angela, please." Pleaded Brennan. "You know me. Would I even _consider_ leaving if all was well?"

After a moment, Angela shook her head again. This was definitely something Brennan needed. Work was all encompassing to her, held meaning, and to want to get away so badly was big.

"We could get in so much trouble." The artist said. "We could lose our jobs."

"This from the woman who lives on the edge and tries to get me to do the same?" Brennan allowed herself a hint of a smile. Angela joined suit.

"What the hell. At least we'll go down in flames together."

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When Booth got tired of waiting for Bones to call him back (after numerous attempts at calling her cell were fruitless), the agent tried Angela again.

And since she didn't feel the need to answer either, Booth got worried. Hadn't he just called her and gotten a response? Surely Bones couldn't have convinced her friend to ignore Booth via phone as well…could she?

"Agent Booth, we've come across that picture you told us we might find." One of the officers on the latest crime scene informed him. He handed the photograph to the impatient Booth.

A single look at it made his blood run cold.

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"So, what's the name of this place you booked us in all of twenty minutes?" questioned Angela.

"Koko Motel," Brennan replied, watching trees pass by the window of her friend's car.

"Cute." Angela turned left, down a worn gravel road leading toward their destination. Upon parking and unbuckling, she turned to Brennan. "What names are we under? 'Temperance and Angela'?"

"Definitely not." The doctor hesitated. "'Deli' and 'Tesco'."

"Okay," said Angela slowly. "Do I want to know why?"

Taking a deep breath, Brennan explained. "It means 'to hide' in Latin."

Nodding, the artist said, "Very clever. And a little bit morbid."

Ignoring her friend's Look, Angela went to get their key. While she was gone, Brennan allowed Logic to work its way back into her brain. She had begged Angela to basically go on the run with her, risked both their jobs, alienated the few friends she had, jeopardized whatever sanity she had remaining, and…made a complete and utter mess of things with Booth. Was it worth all of this based on the minute possibility that she would die at her partner's hand?

Then Angela returned, and once again, Brennan pushed Logic aside. "The sun's setting, and it's been a long drive." Angela stated. "I can't believe _I'm_ saying this, but, wanna turn in for the night?"

Brennan hadn't noticed the slow-spreading darkness, but the realization did make her slightly drowsy. She nodded and the two went to gather their bags from the back of the car.

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_The same indescribable room. The same ache in her knee. It was happening again: Brennan was holding up her hands and willing Booth not to shoot with every fiber of her being._

"_Why?"_

_But never did the man give her an answer, and that made his actions all the more bewildering. He shot her once again._

Only, instead of forcing herself awake, Brennan was being shaken. Slowly, she opened her eyes and could make out Angela's form, next to the nightstand. She had turned on the lamp, and Brennan could see how worried she appeared.

"Don't tell me you had it again." Angela said.

Brennan bit her lip and nodded. Angela sat on the edge of her friend's bed.

"I kept hearing you ask 'Why?' in your sleep."

Brennan looked her in the eye. "I thought it would stop, if I got away. I thought…"

Angela hugged Brennan, who took deep breaths to keep herself from breaking down. The artist pulled away after a minute, regarding Brennan sadly.

"Honey, you know that I'm your friend, right?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"And you know that I love you like crazy. But I can't do this anymore, and neither can you. This dream has spiraled way out of control. Maybe…" She hesitated. "Maybe you should talk to someone."

"Are you saying I should find a psychologist, Ange? You know I hate psychology."

"Yeah, I do. But even you have got to admit, Bren: it can't go on like it has. Because this thing has completely changed who you are."

Hugging her knees to her chest, Brennan sighed, admitting defeat.

"Good. I'm calling Booth, then."

"What? Ange, no." Pleaded Brennan.

Angela rose from the bed. "He's a better idea than a psychologist. And if you want all of this to go away, go to the source."

Brennan played with a string on the bed's comforter. "Alright."

Glancing at the clock, Angela amended, "Except, calling him at 3:30 in the morning might make him less than understanding."

"Agreed."

The dark-haired woman began picking up the clothes she had tossed on the nearby chair earlier. "What are you doing?" Brennan asked suspiciously.

"Packing. I'm going to drive back to my apartment and give Booth a call at a decent hour. He'll come here to get you, and the two of you can clear everything up on the drive back."

"Angela, I don't believe that's an effective solution."

"TS, babe."

Ignoring her friend's question of what exactly 'TS' stood for, Angela finished gathering her things. She left quickly thereafter.

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Brennan couldn't go back to sleep, and in all honesty, wasn't quite sure she wanted to. Luckily, being out in the backwoods, away from clusters of people, there weren't 'bumps in the night' to make her feel any more threatened than she already did.

Watching the sunrise was the only positive thing about losing sleep. Brennan couldn't recall the last time she'd seen one, where she was really taking it in. The drawback, though, was how much time she had to think. And come to the conclusion that Angela was right (something she wasn't used to admitting about others, even to herself).

When the morning light streamed in through the motel windows, the scientist decided to shower and dress. She knew that as soon as Angela phoned Booth, he would be on his way. That she didn't doubt for a second. _Might as well be ready to face the inevitable_, she thought.

Emerging from the bathroom afterwards, Brennan thought it best to swiftly pack her belongings, few thought they may be. Just as she bent to retrieve her overnight bag from beside the bed, she heard a noise; something shuffling around. Brennan wouldn't be the least bit surprised if a mouse or some other small animal had gotten in. The motel was surrounded by trees, after all. Then, she heard it again—faint, but distinct. However, that sound was overshadowed by a slamming car door and hurried footsteps coming from outside. Brennan turned to the door just as it was forcefully kicked in.

Now her nightmares came to life. Booth stood ominously in the doorway, his gun at ready. Thinking she could make a run for it, Brennan bolted for the back door—only to trip unceremoniously over the bag she hadn't gotten the chance to pick up. She fell forward, her right knee colliding with a small desk. Brennan had to suppress the urge to stop and rub the pain away. She faced her partner, kneeling on her good knee. Whether from pain of fear, she couldn't tell, but a tear slid down her cheek. And before she could stop herself, the words flowed automatically from her.

"Why are you doing this?"

Booth stared at her coldly, tightening his grip on the gun. But just as Brennan thought her dream would become reality, Booth commanded,

"Bones, get down!"


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you guys for reading, and I'm glad you like it so far. I hope the end doesn't disappoint!

Chapter Five

Brennan sat in the back of the ambulance, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a cup of the motel's coffee in her hands.

Booth slowly walked over and took a seat beside her. Surprising them both, Brennan didn't inch away. "How's the knee?" Booth inquired.

"It hurts, and I'm going to have a significant bruise, but I think I'll live." Finally allowing herself to ponder the situation, Brennan made an inquiry of her own. "What happened?"

The agent sighed; obviously this was the last thing he wanted to relive right now.

"Angela came back to the lab. Told me she had planned on calling me and letting me know where you were. And then I showed her the newest picture."

"But that shouldn't matter now, right?" The anthropologist pointed out. "If the pattern was continuous, then we've saved whoever the picture shows."

"Yeah, we have." Agreed Booth. He turned to look at her. "The picture was of you, Bones."

"What?" Brennan narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Wait, the other victims were all teenage girls who attended the same high school. I don't fit that profile at all."

"No," the agent said, "but you still inadvertently played a part. Our murderer, Carson Reimer, has already given us a full confession. He's a teacher at West Payton High, and he had his class read your books. Let's just say he's a 'major fan'. Reimer killed girls from his class to 'flesh you out', so to speak. He wanted to kill you, Bones."

Brennan shuddered. Reimer was the noise she heard before her partner burst in. And then realization swept over her.

She replayed the scene in her head: Booth, gun poised, ready to fire. But not at her. The agent had yelled at Brennan to get down. She was allowed confusion for only a second before Booth pushed her to the floor. He quickly rose again and aimed at the back. Barely a second had passed when Carson Reimer came darting out from hiding, crowbar raised. Booth fired his weapon, hitting Reimer in the shoulder. The bullet, Brennan believed only seconds earlier, meant for her. And that's what all of this had been about. Her dream was a warning, but as it was said that science wasn't an exact science, details were inaccurate. Especially the most important detail of who, precisely, got shot.

"I guess this means I should tell you everything." Said Brennan timidly. "Why I've been avoiding you."

"Great." Booth nodded. "Because whatever I did was apparently so horrendous that you felt the need to flee from me in terror."

"You make me sound like a rabbit," muttered Brennan. She took a deep, unsteady breath. "I had a…dream."

"A dream." Repeated Booth, not comprehending.

"Yes. A few nights ago. I was in a room somewhere, and you had your gun trained on me. You…you shot me, Booth."

The man next to her looked as if he'd been slapped. Brennan tried to continue her story fast, like the proverbial 'band-aid', hoping it wouldn't be as painful to hear. "I couldn't rid myself of the images, and I didn't know what to do."

Booth stared at the ground, as if seeing past it. Brennan swallowed a lump in her throat. "I thought it would be as simple as putting a temporary distance between us, until the dream fully left my consciousness, but I kept having it over and over…I could _feel_ the bullet in my chest…" Brennan bit her lip to keep from crying.

For a long time, Booth was silent. Brennan could tell he was letting it all sink in. Then he asked, "Why didn't you tell me? I mean, I thought you were mad, or getting me back for something. But the whole time…" he paused, focusing his gaze on his partner again. "You were scared to death of me, Bones."

As much as Brennan wanted to tell him it wasn't true; convince him that she would never be afraid of him and ease his mind, she couldn't. She was ashamed to admit that Booth—or a version of him—_had_ frightened her.

Booth rubbed the back of his neck wearily. "Angela had to have known. She was making up all kinds of excuses for you. What, you swore her to secrecy?"

"Yes. Except, when I first informed her of my dream, she did say I should tell you."

"Why didn't you?" Booth wondered softly. "Why didn't you listen to her and let me know what was going on?"

"How was I supposed to tell you?" The anthropologist nearly shouted, forgetting that she was at fault. "In what way should I have phrased that? 'By the way, Booth, I had a devastating nightmare in which you, my trusted partner and friend, shot me dead?"

"Yeah, exactly like that!" answered the agent. "Had I known, I could have given you your space, and you wouldn't have been easy prey for a psycho!"

He stood quickly, putting distance between them.

"Booth, where are you going?" Brennan asked.

He faced her, saying, "I'm just a little hurt, Temperance. I need some time."

And as he got back into his SUV and drove away, Brennan let the tears fall.

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The doctor was grated time off from work to recover. However, Recovery Time only merited Thinking Time, and Brennan had done nothing but think the entire week. Needless to say, she went back to the Jeffersonian immediately, where she received mixed greetings from her friends.

"Man," Hodgins shook his head, "you sure have some record for people who want to kill you."

"Thank you, Hodgins." Brennan said. She frowned. "I think."

"Are you sure you're alright, Dr. Brennan?" Zack still seemed concerned. Smiling, the woman nodded. "Yes, Zack. I'm getting there."

Angela's Look was the infamous 'I Told You So', though she did her best not to rub it in. "You were right, Ange." The doctor told her.

"Bren, I am so sorry." The artist said, putting a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I know you never wanted any of this."

"No. But what's done is done. We can get justice for those girls, and now it's Booth's turn to avoid me." Brennan half-smiled, attempting to end on a joke. The action failed, and everyone was quiet.

"Wanna talk?" Angela offered, turning toward Brennan's office. Foregoing her usual workaholic routine—at least for the time being—Brennan allowed herself a real smile, and followed.

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"I'm not even sure why I had the dream," admitted the anthropologist, moving a finger to and fro on the couch.

Angela set her chin on her hand. "Well, you said it yourself; a random firing of neurons in your brain. Simple as that.

Shaking her head, Brennan replied, "But it wasn't random. It all happened, save for it being me Booth shot."

"Sweetie, it's over. What's your point?"

"That I'm not a holy person or a prophet, Angela. Why would I dream what I did? To warn me? And if so, some warning. It wasn't even accurate."

Angela shrugged. "Okay, let's say it was a warning. Maybe your friendship with Booth is strong enough now that you're able to advise yourself of danger. But on some subconscious lever, you're still afraid he'll hurt you. And I don't mean physically."

"That's more psychology, Ange." Complained Brennan. "And you're definitely wrong about my relationship with Booth. I don't think we have one to speak of after what I've done."

"Give it time," counseled the artist, smiling. "Like I said before, there's not much you could do to make Seeley Booth mad at you." At Brennan's skeptical Look, Angela added, "For long, anyway."

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Booth was signing his John Hancock on some papers when a fellow agent knocked on his door.

"C'mon in, Bailey."

The rookie poked his head in. "There's someone to see you, Agent Booth."

"Okay. Send them in."

"She said she needs your permission." Bailey explained, shrugging.

The other agent frowned. "Who is it?"

"Says her name's Dr. Temperance Brennan."

Booth swallowed. She hadn't been around in a few days, but to be honest, he was relieved. Apparently, Bones had had plenty of time to process what was happening to her; Booth needed a bit of his own. Although, he had to admit, things weren't nearly the same without her.

Granting this 'permission' with a wave of his hand, Bailey retrieved the Lady Scientist and then went about his business. Brennan stood stock still in the doorway, hesitant to proceed.

"You can come in, Bones." Booth moved around his desk and leaned atop it, arms folded. Brennan complied, daring to place herself in one of the chairs across from him. At least he was back to calling her 'Bones', something she never thought she'd be grateful for.

For a long time, the woman tried to think of something to begin with, but nothing seemed right. Booth grinned internally. Bones seemed to always have something to say, and despite recent events, the agent found this quite amusing.

Finally, Brennan extended her hand, holding brown paper sack. Déjà vu set in as Booth asked, "What is it?"

"A peace offering."

The man leaned forward and took the bag from her. He opened it and pulled out its contents. In spite of himself, he grinned. "A smiley face cookie."

"From Manderfield's. You told me you liked them."

"That I do."

Another wordless moment, and then Brennan said, "Saying 'I'm sorry' just doesn't seem…enough. I owe you more."

Booth didn't know how to respond. He was still a little hurt, a little confused, but he held no malice against his partner. With a little more time, he would get past it, no harm, no foul. And Booth knew that he had to tell her as much, to clear her conscious. There was just one last thing he had to know.

"How could you ever think I would hurt you, Bones?" inquired the agent, setting the bag down on his desk. Brennan lowered her eyes, having no answer to give. She was still trying to figure it all out herself. "You're my partner. My friend." Booth continued. "I can hardly blame you for a dream, but…"

She'd had enough, he thought. Her own guilt was punishment enough as it was. So he let her know what he'd concluded. "Give me time to wrap my brain around all of this. I'll come around."

"Fair enough." Brennan tucked a lock of auburn hair behind her ear and got to her feet. She took a step toward the door, stopped, and turned again toward her partner. "Promise me something, Booth?"

"What's that?"

"Please don't hate me for this. You are my friend—my very good friend. I…I don't think I could take it if…"

Booth rose as well and went to her. "Hey," he said, looking her in the eye. "I do not, repeat, _do not_—and never will—hate you, Bones. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," answered the doctor, a smile beginning to light her features. "Thank you."

She left, and Booth took a deep breath. It was going to be hard to concentrate on paperwork now, even if it was simply signing his name. Not that it had been any easier ten minutes ago.

Sucking it up, Booth returned to his desk chair and got back to work. Remembering the cookie, he brought it out of the bag and took a bite.

Savoring the treat, Booth contemplated letting Bones off the hook much sooner.

**..The End...**


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